


Immortal Magik

by death_by_thoughts



Category: Original Work
Genre: Magik - Freeform, Multi, Original Characters - Freeform, Original work - Freeform, Strong Female Characters, fae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/death_by_thoughts/pseuds/death_by_thoughts
Summary: A misunderstood girl, who call’s herself Kat, thought she was worth nothing—at least, that’s what she’s been convinced her whole life. Now, she learns that she’s a core sage, and the worlds are in danger. Read as she recounts her adventures in the form of letters being sent for help. Experience the love, hate, growth, and grief. Cry as your heart is broken.





	1. The Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Erin here! This is a wip I’ve been working on for a fair while now. I decided that I’d like some opinions and criticism. Please review. No reposts or translations. Thanks for reading!

To whom it may concern,

My name is Katarina Erõskatona, and the worlds are in danger. I was told to write this letter---the others seem to think I’m the best at this sort of thing---to inform those who could help us. I can only hope that this will reach assistance before it is too late…

I come with the request that you simply read this information and send help. Sure, you could choose not to believe me, but consider opening your mind. 

What you are about to read is the journey I went through to find my people and the beginning of the one I have started to save them and humanity. Even if you don’t care for the details, please just try to believe. The Takers thrive with ignorance and miscommunication. 

Without any further stalling, this is my story so far:


	2. The Beginning of it All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story begins

Normally, I don’t have an aversion to small family-owned businesses in Southwest London, but this was a different occasion.  
Ever since my uncle and I had moved to England, I had noticed something strange about the bookstore on the corner. Sure, the little brick-made shop with its wide windows looked much like the others lining the street. However, the employees were a bit . . . off.  
From what I could tell, there were three people who worked at this odd place. The first was a young person with a this raven-colored pixie cut, and an ever-present smirk adorned their face. They seemed fairly spunky, and, though I had never met them up-close, it wasn’t difficult to notice their subdued yet jerky mannerisms.  
The next was a woman with beautiful chocolate skin and long dark hair. I could often hear her laughter floating from the shop to the rest of the street. At the end of the day, one could always see her putting out leftover food from the coffee-serving portion of their shop for the homeless boys that often lingered in the alleyway in between their store and the neighboring one.  
There was one more woman who I had only seen once. The entire time she had been outside---for a purpose I didn’t know---this lady had seemed franticly on-edge. Her dark eyes flitted about constantly. Her hands reached up to fidget with her pale blue hijab every few seconds. She seemed dangerous in my mind.  
Needless to say, I avoided their little store like a mosquito to a citronella candle.  
Now, I aware that this may sound odd on my part. I know that those people sounded innocent enough, but you didn’t see what I did. This young person had filed ears and sharp teeth. Their face was sorrowful and pale. Also, they had wings. Dark, pitch-black wings, which were often tucked against their back as they worked. The other woman---the one with the long hair---was usually followed by twinkling lights. The oddest part about this, though, was that no one---no one---seemed to even remotely notice that these traits were present. At. All.  
It was completely insane. Either I was hallucinating or I was the only one who could see that this young person was an actual real-life feary.  
You see how this is a problem?  
I lived about three plots down the street, and the rest of the city was in their direction. However, I had learned the legends of the fae. I wasn’t going to take any chances.  
That brings us to December 2, which is quite early in the fifth season. I had woken up a racing heart and a shean of cold sweat. Another nightmare. Great.  
It was too hot in the room. It was too dark. My nightclothes were stuck damply to my body, and the sheets encased my legs, trapping me. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The mattress was too uncomfortable. The curtains were too open. The moon was shining too brightly, its blue lightly pulsing too insistently through the window.  
Wait. Blue light? Pulsing?  
I threw off the quilt and kicked off the sheets. I cringed at the cold---I wish the temperature would make up its mind---and tip-toed towards the window. The light waas no longer present, so I stopped on the way.  
In front of me, leaning against the wall beside the window, stood a mirror. I hated this thing. I have no clue why I owned it. The stupid thing was six feet tall, two feet wide, and bordered with a sizable amount of gold. It was supposed to be a family heirloom, but I always thought that my childhood should have been more of a priority than this insufferable mirror. My uncle disagreed.

The person that stared back at me from this mirror was also a vessel for my hatred. Hair too long and too dark and too frizzy. Lips and eyes too round and nose too big. Shirt so loose that it hung off the frame. Pants too tight around the waist band and nowhere else. Sometimes, if I glared and scrutinized for long enough, my reflection didn’t even look like a person anymore; I was just a mess of flaws.  
I looked back to the nightstand next to my bed. There was a bottle on it. I took a few steps back and grabbed a hold of it, but the pulsing blue light had returned. My hands released the bottle and I returned to my window, pushing the heavy curtains aside.  
No blue light.  
I wrinkled my nose and wrenched the window open. First placing one bare foot on the ledge to test my weight then securing my hands on either side of the glass, I hauled myself up and stepped through the window and onto the roof.  
The cold air hitting my face was quite refreshing although it was a bit nippy---well, what else could one expect from december in the middle of the northern hemisphere?---and a smile appeared on my face for the first time in a while. The wind tugged at my nightclothes and pulled the locks of my cinnamon-colored hair. The roof was always the best place to be. There wa no one I could disappoint, and it’s quiet. I needed quiet sometimes. We all do.  
A flash of blue light pulsed again, but I couldn’t really get a good look. The source of the light was on the street below. From this section of the roof, I didn’t have a vantage point that would allow me to see more than the swirls of glowing periwinkle that floated upwards.  
My feet scaled the rood in a steady rhythm. My hands hooked onto points with the most structural integrity and supported the weight of my body as if they’ve done this a million times, which they nearly have, of course. I knew the building’s top better than my bedroom, and I knew exactly how to get higher and higher. Everyone needs an escape; I just tended to use mine fairly often. The only downside was the wetness on left on the shingles from the earlier afternoon rain, but this was the British Isles. What else can one expect?  
By this time, the light had faded, leaving me only guided by the moon as the lamps that lined the street’s didn’t provide any help this far up. As I reach the peak of the roof, I sat and sighed. Life is hard, isn’t it? Alone and lonely, yet surrounded. Satisfied, yet unquenched. I never enough, huh?  
From behind and slightly below me, a snarling growl sounded against the night. Whipping around, I saw nothing. That didn’t deter the anxiety rising in my chest. With my heart racing, and my blood pumping at such a fast pace, I rose from my seated position to dash down the roof as quickly and as carefully as possible. When the building’s slanted roof leveled, my feet leapt to another building's top. From there, I scaled down the fire escape and onto the streets.  
Seeing as it was three in the morning, the lights the of each building surrounding me were out for the night. Well, there was one, but it was across the alley way, where the stores were nestled together. Because of the scare on the rooftops, I was now completely wide awake and alert despite the time. My eyes were focusing on the curtains, and my ears caught the skittering of stray cats. My feet were so light and tensed that I ran the second I heard the growl again.  
This time, the sounds came from both my left and my right, so I darted in the direction that was previously behind me. I was almost back to the building my flatt was in when a force grabbed the back of my shirt, and I was yanked backwards and and down into the street.  
As the air flew out of my lungs and my back soaked with rainwater I had been knocked into, I felt the same pressure on my throat. The weight restricted my breathing so much that dark spots danced in my eyes and my mind became foggy. Instead of focusing on the fact that I was being attacked, my brain decided to think about how the street lamps must be broken because it was so dark in this area and how disappointing it was that Mr. Jersey’s fairylights weren’t illuminated yet this year as they were so bright and cheerful and look, the controls for those lights were right there!  
The second the button was pushed, a bright gleam of flickering colors danced all throughout the street and its alleys, and I was released. I lied there, catching my breath and blinking away the spots in my vision until the realization that I should get up off the ground hit me.  
As I forced my legs to support my weight, my mind was racing, trying to figure out what had just happened. I hadn’t spotted my assailant, but whoever attacked me had been scared off by the lights. Huh.  
Another growl behind me made my head turn so quickly that I might have almost gotten whiplash. My attacker turned out to be, unfortunately a ‘what,’ not a ‘who.’  
This ‘what’ seemed to be braver than its buddies that I could faintly spot in the shadows of nearby buildings. It slowly approached, hissing as its paper-white skin burned and sizzled in the glow of fairy lights. The sunken, deep black eyes with red, slit-like pupils focused completely on my retreating form. Its sharp shark-like teeth were bared, and its snowy, thin fur was matted with cakey mud.  
The creature stopped suddenly and all-together, cocking its head to the side as if listening to a sound I couldn’t hear. Overcoming my fear and forcing my body out of its frozen-from-shock state, I turned and dashed to the shop that seemed to be open. I didn’t see which one it was as I barreled into the door and quickly locked it behind my back.  
Inside the store, the air was warm and saturated with a vanilla scent. A fuzzy carpet adorned the floor, and sturdy dark oak bookshelves sat atop it in neat, evenly set rows on one half of the room. Low tables and comfortable chairs were arranged in the clearings between the cases of books, and pub tables were set against the large storefront windows. On the other half of the room, there was a severing counter---complete with a cash register and everything---guarded the door on the far wall. A silver-backed and silver-encased sat on the mantle above a blazing fireplace.  
Behind the counter stood a woman I swore I’d never meet. She looked up from the book she’d been perusing previously, a gasp and an astonished expression escaping her.  
It was the one woman with long hair who would set out leftovers and had such a wonderful laugh. And I had locked myself in here with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Reviews are much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

The woman’s eyes widened, and she rushed to meet me across the shop. She took my hands in hers and started to apologize profusely, saying, “Child! Oh, child!” in a breathy whisper.  
She continued fussing over me---my nightclothes, the mud on my face, the fact that I’d been attacked---quietly to herself in a voice with an accent that sounded like a mix of the south of America---like Louisiana---and France. Her forehead had become creased and her eyebrows drawn in what seemed like concern. Even her chocolate eyes looked forlorn.  
“How rude of me!” the woman exclaimed finally. “My name is Minette, child. We’ve been waiting.”  
‘We?’ ‘Waiting?’ Minette’s act seemed too pleasant to be real. I wanted to know who all had been waiting for my arrival and why, but this woman was worrying me quite a bit. What if she was a faery like the other one?  
After a moment’s hesitation, I started, “I was chased. By that thing.”  
Minette’s face dropped, her expression immediately guarded. Out of the corner of my eyes, I spotted her hand move furtively to her right pocket. She sighed, exasperated, and threw back her head. Minette swore and huffed, “They shouldn’t have been able to find you this early.”  
“Excuse me?”  
"I had cast a spell that would protect you, child. It was supposed to keep the Takers from finding you until you came to me, but---  
"Wait wait wait. You cast a spell? A spell? What are Takers? What do they want with me? Why?"  
"Child. Relax. Don't worry yourself over it too much. It will be fine," Minette reassured me.   
She yelled something in a language---I think---that was foreign to me. Footsteps down stairs sounded, and a through the door behind the counter ran the faery.   
To be honest, I honestly regretted not meeting them earlier. With skin the color of french vanilla coffee, the way that they reach up to tuck their onyx hair behind an ear, and the little dimples that appeared when they saw me, the only thought that ran through my mind was: wow.   
“This is my . . . ” Minette turned to the faery and asked, “What is that word in English again?”   
“I believe it is ‘daughter,’ Ma,”   
The girl unfurled her wings a bit, fluttered them, and wrapped the feathers tightly to their back. She looked me directly in the eyes and held out her hand. “I am Knox. May I have your name?”  
Now, I had learned all about the legends of the fae. They were supposed to be, according to the myths, notoriously vicious tricksters. Since those folk tales were just stories, and things usually change over the course of centuries, I wasn’t going to believe all of the lore. However, I knew that names and words are powerful to the fae, and, not being a stupid person with no common sense, I wasn’t just going to give this Knox girl that I barely knew any power over me. I don’t like being controlled, thanks.  
“You may refer to me as Kat,” was my hesitant answer, which was given without accepting the hand the faery was offering or giving her anything.  
“Intelligent, are you not?” Knox grinned and lowered her head. That was an odd gesture, but okay. She spoke in a Cockney accent and paused between each word, measuring the syllabes carefully before speaking them.   
I didn’t trust her in the least, but I needed more information from this girl and her mother. I, also, must remember to take the fae’s compliments in stride, and never trust the words spoken.  
When the silence lasted for more than a few moments, the faery smiled politely and guestered to the door behind the serving counter through which she had come. She began to stroll over to that door but paused upon realizing I was not following. Knox sighed. “I know that you humans may have precautions against us, but I promise I will never intentionally hurt you in any way, shape, or form.”  
Well, wasn’t that just so reassuring. However, I knew that I should be naught to think of treachery, for those thoughts will destroy me with these beings. The faery had, again, tipped her head forward in what I supposed was a gesture of submission.   
“Fine,” I coldly relented after a few moments’ hesitation and allowed the faery to lead me further into the little shop.   
Despite Knox refraining from making any threatening move, I continued to scrutinize both her and my surroundings. The girls stature and overall size were significantly smaller than mine; I could easily overpower her physically if need be, but I didn’t know what tricks she had up her sleeve otherwise. I counted the number of steps of the stairs and each hallway Knox lead me through, examining everything in my range of vision as we ventured to the back of the shop.  
“So . . . you’re a faery.” That seemed harmless enough. Not too offensive. Right?  
“I am only half faery,” Knox stated in her staccato voice. “My maman was a faery. My Ma---Minette, the one you just met---is completely human.”  
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Huh. Two mothers?”  
“Yes. the fae are not quite like you humans. Although your species is spectualar in its own right, the fae are special too.”  
“Okay, then,” I dismissed, not really wanting to know more. Knox lead me to a cozy room in the back of the third floor from the street. A bed covered in many layers of bed clothes, blankets, and assorted pillows was sat in one cover. A desk of matching stained pine wood with empty mason jars on it sat parallel to the bed. Next to that was a wardrobe of the same of the the same design---again with mason jars placed on it. The walls were painted a light grey, and the curtains, which were drawn tightly against the night existing outside the windows, had been made out of thick blue fabric. The carpet was the same dark blue color. In the middle of the room on that shaggy carpet, there was a leather-bound book.  
The faery, who had been in front of me, turned, absolutely beaming. “Do you like it? We spent a fair bit of time designing and putting it together to make it as comfortable as possible for you. As we were unsure of any complications with your arrival and time here, we have made the enchantments flexible.  
“There are several protective spells over this room as well as learning charms. You will be taught how to tap into your power, Kat, and you will improve until you are ready to be presented to the Council in our world.”  
Knox looked so excited and pleased with herself that it was terribly hard for me to say, “I’m . . . not comfortable with this.”  
The faery’s face fell. “I understand, but why?” she asked, crestfallen.  
“It’s all too much and you’re . . . scary. This is scary.” I struggled to grasp a word that would illustrate what I meant.  
“Are you concerned for your family’s situation?”  
I laughed. Actually laughed. “No one would care enough to even notice if I was gone.”  
“That does not mean you do not care.”  
I didn’t answer. Of course I care. That’s my problem.  
“It’s just . . . you---you’re a faery and you’re talkin’ about magic and other worlds and I-I-I don’t know!”  
Knox cautiously placed a hand on my shoulder in a placating sort of gesture. “I know this is a lot to process, but please try. This is the safest option. In the morning, we will explain in a better fashion. For now, please sleep. Being awake at this time is throwing off you circadian rhythm. Rest.”  
“My circadian rhythm has always been messed up,” I grinned.  
“Regardless.”   
She stepped back, fully expecting me to do as she’d asked. When I didn’t, the faery’s expression became understanding. “You do not want to claim this room or the objects in it because of the Ownership Rule, yes?”  
I nodded. “You aren’t supposed to take offered things from faeries because you’ll owe them.”  
Knox thought for a moment and then blurted, “I give you all of this to you for trade of knowledge.”  
“What?”   
“If you tell me something I do not know,” Knox slowed down, “then I can trade you for all of this. Tell me something. It will increase my knowledge and this will be yours.”  
“Okay. The way to deny something in Hungarian is by saying ‘nem,’”  
“Hungarian?”  
“It’s my native language,” I said.  
Knox cocked her head to the side inquisitively. “That is one of the languages you humans have, yes?”   
I nodded, “Yeah. There’s hundreds of ‘em.”  
“Ah.” The faery wandered over to the middle of the room, where she bent down, picked up the leather-bound book, and returned to me like an obedient puppy. “Thank you for the knowledge,” she smiled brightly.  
I took the book from her, and she skipped back into the hallway. I gently moved aside the empty jars on the desk and placed the book in the empty space. Fear was still coursing through my veins, but uncertainty was overpowering it. I didn’t know these people; I just learned about faeries and magic and other worlds. Anxiety was settled in my gut, and it most likely wasn’t going away anytime soon.   
Knox then strolled back into the room with arms piled high with fluffy pillows and thick, soft blankets of various colors. She deposited them on the bed, turned to me, and smiled, “I brought you sleeping supplies. Please tell me if it is not enough.”  
“Thanks. It should be way more than enough, though.”  
“Really? My understanding was that humans nested in blankets when sleeping.”  
The sheepish look on her face was adorable. “Well, some humans do, but it’s really just a preference,” I clarified.  
“Oh. I will, erm, remove my ownership of these for you.”  
Knox closed her eyes and held her hands over the blankets. 

Item harum rerum renuncio meae. Et iam non sit amet hominum:   
Kat: in mea permission.

A bracelet on her wrist glowed as she said what I assumed was a spell. Afterward, Knox turned to me, smiled, said “Good night,” turned off the lights, walked out, and closed the door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please give kudos and, ya know, leave a comment? Thanks!


End file.
